Ranko took Crash's hand, lifting it over her head as high as she could reach. "Crash Matsuyama, everybody! Isn't he amazing?!" She held his hand tightly, refusing to let him flee back into the shadows with his bandmates until he had received his due adulation from the capacity crowd.
Now for the rumor control. Don't need more people writing in the tabloids that me and Crash are doing the dirty. Not that it'll stop 'em, but we can try. "I mean, Crash and I wrote that song together for our partners, because both of us feel that way about them. In a sense, I guess it's true for us too; he and I work hard every day to make each other better, and neither of us would have ever dreamed of setting foot on this stage without the other."
Ranko finally released her guitarist's hand, palming the small item he had surreptitiously withdrawn from his pocket and passed off to her. With her free hand, she lifted the guitar strap off of her shoulder and over her head, offering the instrument to her friend.
Crash jogged to the back corner of the stage, handing Ranko's instrument off to Norio before scurrying back to his usual position at stage right. "The thing is," Ranko said, her eyes still locked on Crash as he retreated to the shadows. Don't gag. Don't gag. "... as much as I love my husband, I still have a hard time believing I deserve him. I mean he's just… incredible. Everything a girl could ever want. But me?!"
A bouncy pop rhythm began to flow from Crash's guitar.
"I'm just a regular… a simple, regular… a normal, regular gi-i-i-irl!"
Unlike the version of the song that had appeared on Wild Orchid, the band's second album, the music began at the exact beat where her voice was to start. The sudden beginning of the song took the crowd by surprise, and they roared in their approval as Ranko turned her back to the crowd and sashayed toward center stage.
She glanced up at the video board as it relit, displaying Ranko walking down the street a few blocks from the Phoenix in an unassuming gray hoodie and a pair of royal purple sweat pants. At Nabiki's insistence, she'd chosen a plain sweatshirt rather than the one bearing the Minato University Cheerleading logo. "It's not a good idea to tell everybody exactly where to find you," Nabiki had insisted. Doesn't make sense to me, it's not like half my songs don't mention the bar I work in anyway. And besides, half the Pixies squad appears in the video somewhere or another, she thought, smirking up at Shiori and Sarah giggling at her from behind in the larger-than-life recording. But, whatever.
The redhead on the video screen glanced behind her at a pair of girls who trailed a half-block behind her on the same sidewalk, pointing to Ranko and tittering to each other. Their words were inaudible, but it was quite clear who the subject of their conversation was. Meanwhile, the Ranko of the present peered over her shoulder as well, grinning at a far larger group who had decided to spend their Monday evening checking out what she was up to.
"I'm just a regular girl! No need to follow me home, just 'cause I pay my light bill with a mi-cro-phone! I'm not Janet Jackson! I'm not Paula Abdul!"
Behind her, Shinji stepped to his left, clearing a diagonal path from the curtained area backstage to Ranko's position at center stage as he strummed his backup bass guitar. Kaz better hurry the hell up with that string; I hate this fuckin' thing, he thought.
"Somebody like me's never gonna be THAT cool!" As she sang, Ranko extended her arms out to her sides in an exaggerated shrug. The crowd cheered its approval as each of her wrists was vaulted by a somersaulting woman in a white tanktop and faded blue jeans. Hitomi and Emi had each executed a triple somersault from their dressing areas backstage, criss-crossing behind the singer.
"So, don't get upset, but I can't help but laugh…" she sang as she approached the front edge of stage right. "... whenever someone asks me for an autograph!"
The redhead laughed into her microphone as her friends set about their American breakdance-inspired choreography, still shrugging her pantomimed disbelief at the situation she found herself in. The gesture may have been exaggerated for the stage, but the sentiment of the verse was still entirely valid in her mind. The fact that the Firebirds themselves had initiated a trend at her concerts that had to be accounted for when planning for the second and third legs of the Wildfire Tour still blew her mind. Freaking online message boards, man.
Right on cue, the flurry of paper and cardstock began. Photographs of the singer, album liners and even napkins from the bar across the street flew like a hurricane over the metal barrier separating the front rows of the crowd from the stage. Most landed short of their mark, pelting Lance and his Korean security staff with paper. Some articles, folded into paper airplanes, sailed over the crowd's heads from the upper deck, and others spun in the air like shurikens as they floated lazily on the chill December breeze toward the performers.
"I just don't know how to act like a celebrity!" Ranko insisted as she bent down at the edge of the stage, scooping up a few of the articles that had landed within reach. Letting the cap of the black permanent marker in her hand fall to the ground off the edge of the platform, she set about scrawling her name and her trademark heart illustration on the first of the photos she'd gathered as she strode across the front edge of the stage.
"It's just way too crazy for a regular girl like me!"
The video board showed Ranko being backed against the red brick wall of the Phoenix by a throng of her fellow Minato University cheerleaders, each with a photo or CD liner in her hand waiting to be signed.
Finishing a seventh autograph as she reached the right edge of the stage, Ranko held the handful of papers overhead to show the audience her work. She stooped down, handing the marker and the small stack of photos down to the enormous man in the black polo shirt who reached up from ground level for them. Flashing a winning smile down to her friend, Ranko popped back up to a standing position, waving to the assembled masses of Firebirds as if to indicate her task was completed.
"I'm just a regular girl, just like I was before…"
The display behind the performers changed scenes, now showing Ranko in the same hoodie and sweat pants. The recorded Ranko pushed a small shopping cart overloaded with foodstuffs through the frozen food aisle of the konbini she and Akane frequented.
At least Izzi let me dress warm for the shot, so you can't see me shivering too bad, Ranko thought with a smirk up at the display. Unlike now.
"... but now, they snap my picture at the grocery store!"
Emi spun on her backside on the stage, her blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail with a red length of satin ribbon. Ranko herself had minimal choreography planned for the song, consisting mostly of walking around the stage. Hitomi and Emi were tasked with shadowing her wherever she went on the raised platform, always dancing a few meters away from her as if refusing to let her forget that she was a famous performer - however hard she might be trying to do so.
"I'm not Cyndi Lauper, and I'm not Joan Jett! I'm nowhere near that famous…"
Ranko beamed, panning her hands over the raucous crowd as if to illustrate its sheer magnitude.
"... but I'd take that bet!"
With a bright smile, Lance Riker reached over the metal barricade, handing one of the signed photos Ranko had passed him to an excited teenage girl wearing a berry-colored yes, mistress tank top despite the December chill. While the often stoic veteran didn't like to admit it, getting to choose the handful of fans that received Ranko's gifts was the highlight of the show for him. He laughed loudly enough to be heard over Shinji's emergency bass guitar as the tween screeched in her enthusiasm, scanning the front two rows for another fan to choose.
"So, I can't help but blush and crinkle up my nose when people rush up and ask me to pose!"
A torrent of white strobe lights flickered around the stage, much as they had done during the performance of Hey, Jerk! Ranko gasped, lifting her fingertips to her open mouth in pantomimed surprise.
"They say they can't believe we're doing this, and I agree! It's just way too crazy for a regular girl like me!"
Ranko winced at the quiet whimper that escaped her lips. Shit! They had to have heard that, she thought as she strode back toward Crash. Thank the gods we cut a couple verses from this one. She hopped on the balls of her feet a few times, hoping to further stimulate her bloodflow. Almost done. One and a half more songs, and then there's pyro again. It'll warm up. She rubbed her bare forearms hard with her hands, willing the Cat's Tongue-enhanced goosebumps the sudden gust of river breeze had raised on her skin to subside. I wonder if I could get away with wearing some leggings or something under the next costume. At least the skirt's longer. Fuck, I'm gonna kill Izumi when I get home, and I don't give a single shit that it'll be Christmas Eve when I do it. Mom's just gonna have to deal with it.
Breaking her longing gaze at Crash's black leather coat, Ranko turned her eyes back to the crowd. Okay, Ranko. Dial it in. Time for some of that martial artist toughness, she thought. Forcing a smile onto her lips, she model-stomped forward at an almost skip until she stood at center stage flanked by Hitomi and Emi. Both were on their backsides, breakdancing on the hastily-constructed stage floor.
"I'm just a regular girl, and not in all my plans…"
She stood up straight despite her body's inclination to recoil from the chill breeze, spreading her arms as wide as they would go and spanning the capacity audience with them.
"... could I have ever imagined I'd have all these fans!"
Shinji stepped to his left, clearing a path between himself and Zoe's drum set just in time for a flash of black satin to rush through it toward the sartorial songstress.
"I'm not Annie Lennox! I'm not Bonnie Raitt!" Ranko insisted, resting her hand limply on her breasts in mimed self-deprecation. Behind her, the version of herself on the video board gasped, covering her gaping jaw with both of her hands as the camera panned over her shoulder from her position on the sidewalk to reveal the poster for Wild Orchid in the front window of the All Bangers record store. The frame slowly tightened on the small placard that had been placed over the bottom right corner of the poster, reading SOLD OUT in both English and Japanese.
"Have a hard time believing that I'm all that great!" she sang as Hitomi and Emi scurried to the wings of the stage to vacate its center for their approaching male counterparts.
"Sure, I always hoped one day, I'd be a star. But, it still feels so weird when suddenly…"
Ranko's eyes widened in exaggerated stage surprise as she was swept off her feet from behind. Sanyo, clad in a black tuxedo complete with a top hat that had been pinned into his hair to keep it from slipping loose during the dance routine, cradled her in his arms, seeming to whisk the starlet in the sequined dress off to a fabulous world of excess and luxury.
"... you ARE!" Ranko finished as Sanyo spun her around in his arms. The muscular dancer twirled her in the air, depositing her back on her scintillating heels.
Ranko let her mouth slack open for a beat, gesturing over her shoulder at Sanyo with her thumb before fanning her face with her hand.
Gag me with a spoon. He's a good looking dude, but a dude nonetheless, she mused sardonically behind her pantomimed flustration.
"Turns out, I wasn't used to it in time for album three!" At least, not unless it somehow happened spontaneously in the intervening two weeks before she was due to return to the Yokai Records studio in Shibuya and record the master for Bad Idea, closing out the last of the sessions required to begin mass production of Behind Bars.
"It's just way too crazy for a regular girl like me!"
Emi rushed forward, grabbing Ranko's wrist and beginning to pull her away from the tuxedoed man that stalked her across the stage. "She's just a regular…" she sang, her eyes not leaving Sanyo's. It was as if she was directly defending her friend's bona fides as a common person from him personally.
"A simple, regular…" Hitomi added, taking Ranko's other hand. Ranko flashed her a smile as if trying to demonstrate her gratitude for being rescued from the cusp of fame and fortune.
"A normal, regular gi-i-i-irl!" the two backup singers sang together.
When they had put two meters of distance between themselves and Sanyo, Ranko whirled on her heels to face him. "I'm just a regular… a simple, regular…"
"A normal, regular girl!" all three women on stage insisted in one harmonized voice.
The video screen changed scenes again, this time showing a jam-packed corridor. Excited people - more women than men by nearly a two-to-one margin - dashed this way and that, many beginning to filter into the several doors on the left of the frame that led into the first-floor seating surrounding the octagon at the center of the Budokan. The camera panned dozens of faces of Firebirds waiting impatiently in a queue leading up to a small booth that had been erected in the hallway for the chance to buy merchandise emblazoned with the logo for Ranko and the Dapper Dragons.
The camera, from its elevated position above the crowd, zoomed in tight from its position in Yui's hand on the second floor. It focused on the face of a young woman striding through the crowd in a purple sweatshirt and dark sunglasses. The girl tilted her head up as if she were aware of the camera's additional attention, sweeping the hood back on her head just enough to let the slightest wisp of red hair peek out of it. She lowered her sunglasses on her nose, deviously winking her ice-blue right eye at the camera.
"I'm just a regular girl, and I don't understand why people think I'm special. 'Cause I'm in a band?"Ranko deliberately added the raised inflection in her voice to make it a question, and thousands of Firebirds were happy to answer it for her in one thundering voice.
The video screen showed Ranko in a denim pencil skirt and a red leather half-jacket, wiping her eyes on stage. There was no audio coming from the recording to compete with the live performance, but if there had been, it would have been seventeen thousand-some voices serenading the vocalist on the occasion of her twentieth birthday. She had celebrated it at the Budokan by releasing her second full-length studio album, Wild Orchid.
"I'm not Whitney Houston or Pat Benatar. I'm not sure how my voice has carried me this far!"
And she meant it.
The girl on the video board fanned her eyes with her hand to dry her tears as the camera panned around her from behind to show the adoring crowd around her. The one on the stage, however, gestured up at the upper deck of a baseball stadium that stood just slightly more than twelve hundred kilometers away from the bamboo bench in the Minato train station that had been her bed less than forty months ago.
"So if I seem dazed with people I've just met, it's 'cause my life's a dream - don't wanna wake up yet!"
The video behind the dancers displayed a still photo of Ranko in a mauve sweater dress, taken from just about three meters away. She was flanked by Ayako on her left and Yui on her right, both in blue jeans and black tee shirts adorned with fuschia romaji. Both of the redhead's elder sisters held their jaws slack in awe - Aya as she pointed at Ranko, and Yui as she gestured over her shoulder to the concrete sign behind her indicating the entrance to the Budokan at the heart of Kitanomaru Park. Its display read, in backlit English plastic letters, TONIGHT: RANKO AND THE DAPPER DRAGONS!
"I still can't believe my name is up on that marquee!" Ranko all but narrated in song. "It's just way too crazy for a regular girl like me!"
Not only was her name written in nearly half-meter tall lights outside Jamsil Baseball Stadium, it was on the lips of a significant number of the revelers inside it as well. The chants of her name rained down on the young vocalist as she danced with her friends through the truncated song's musical bridge.
"I'm just a regular girl, but I have real big dreams," Ranko sang, interrupting the chorus. The redhead shrugged her shoulders as if she was still entirely flummoxed by her current situation. While the sensation was less true than it had been back in March when the Wildfire Tour began, Ranko doubted it would ever subside completely.
"And, every day, some more are coming true, it seems!"
Behind Ranko, the towering screen featured a sequence of still photos. Each showed Ranko in the same sparkling dress she wore on stage in the present, waving to the crowd. Each crowd - and each venue - was different, however. Each of the stops of the first leg of the Wildfire Tour in March and April was represented, beginning with the Budokan in the Japanese emperor's front yard and ending with the first of two planned shows at the Sydney Entertainment Center in Australia. The second of those shows had been canceled on less than twenty hours' notice so Ranko could rush home to Japan and stake a vigil at her adoptive mother's hospital bedside.
"I mean, I'm not Madonna, and I'm sure not Cher."
Three bright white spotlights, all of which had been following various performers around the stage throughout the song, converged on Ranko's form from above. The sparkling singer all but shouted her declaration, wagging her fist in the air over her head. If there was a hint of defiance in her tone, it was easily traceable to the years of struggle, reflection and sacrifice it had taken her to will the fact into being.
"MY NAME IS RANKO TENDO! Seoul, I'm ALMOST THERE!"
The redhead kept singing, though she was unsure she could be heard over the crowd's roar of approval even with the aid of the massive speakers that ringed the riverside stadium. On the screen behind her, more still images flashed rapidly past like a filmstrip that had reached its end. Each showed Ranko posing with one or more fans. The fans, the outfits, and the venues were all different; indeed, the only similarities in the photos were the presence of the Dapper Dragons' lead vocalist, and the unmitigated joy evident in her eyes.
"Even if I'm flustered, it means everything that you come out to listen, just to hear me sing!"
The shivering siren tried in vain to conceal a little smirk. Even when you gotta freeze your asses off to do it, she mused.
"I just can't express howgrateful I am that you'd be so incredibly supportive of a regular girl like me!"
Jacob stood up behind his keyboard, his fingers dancing in a long glissando that traversed two full octaves. He let his wheeled stool roll out of reach behind himself, as his instrument would need to be relocated for the following number. The trilling of his electronic synthesizer and a furious run on the drums from his partner Zoe brought the musical accompaniment to a close.
Ranko, however, had one more statement to make. As she often did when her songs ended on particularly poignant emotional lines, she delivered the final couplet a capella with no backing audio whatsoever. The video board behind her displayed one final still photo, depicting her in a short sailor fuku on stage in Fukuoka. She was surrounded in a group hug by all six of the full-time Dapper Dragons she had shared the stage with that night in the final days of March, including her beloved friend Ken. It felt like a lifetime had passed for her since.
"Making music with my friends for you is honestly the greatest thing that's ever happened to a regular girl like me!"